


Say One Thing (Mean Another)

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kinktober 2019 [22]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Kinktober Day 22: Telepathy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Ravus and Noctis fight.





	Say One Thing (Mean Another)

** _Are you alright?_ **

“Get the fuck out of my face, Ravus!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Lucian dog--”

“Ravus, stop!”

_ Your arm’s throbbing, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-- _

** _It wasn’t you. _ **

Luna seizes hold of Ravus, yanks him back and puts herself between him and Noctis, standing as firm as any Oracle before her. “That is  _ enough,”  _ she says, and Ravus glares across the way with vicious loathing at Noctis, who returns the look hard enough to kill, even as Regis grips his arm and pulls him away. 

** _It was from earlier, with Loqi. He became… upset when I failed to get hands on you. _ **

_ Do you need a balm? I can be up in your rooms in fifteen. _

“Honestly Ravus--”

“Don’t start,  _ sister.  _ Just turn around and go back to panting after your  _ beloved.”  _ He turns on heel, stalks out, leaving Luna behind, pale-faced, tears burning in her eyes.

“Ravus!”

** _If you think you can get away after that little show we just caused, be my guest._ **

_ Hey, I’ve gotten away from worse before. I’ll be there. _

Ravus storms through the hallways, making sure to snarl at anyone who gets too close. The weight of keeping up the facade against Noctis, of rallying against the Chosen King, of clashing tempers, is exhausting at the best times, utterly draining at its worst. But they can’t stop - they mustn't. If anyone finds out the truth, they’ll all be dead before the next dawn. 

The Empire must believe that he and Noctis are enemies. Luna must believe it, Regis must believe it. The entire kingdom of Lucis  _ must believe  _ that they are enemies, that Ravus hates every inch of him, would never align with him. Would never feed government secrets to him capable of undoing the entire empire. Capable of bringing every Weapon down in a matter of moments. 

Since that fateful day they locked eyes across the snowy landscape, and Ravus began to hear Noctis’ voice in his head, in that sacred place only soulmates can go, they’ve been careful. Careful to be seen together in anything resembling peaceful meetings, careful to say anything that isn’t laced with venom and hatred. Careful in how they act, where they go, when they’re seen together. All the while keeping up the constant back-and-forth feed of information, and worrying. 

Noctis always worries so much. It’s frightening, how he can kick up a screaming temper even as he asks Ravus if he’s alright, if he’s hurting. 

Now he creeps into Ravus’ rooms like a ghost, the door locked and excuses made. The blinds are pulled across the window as soon as Noctis is inside, and as always that insatiable need to  _ touch,  _ to ensure that it’s real, that Noctis is right in front of him presents itself, fueling its way across the bond like fire on wood. 

Noctis kisses him with an urgency he feels down to his bones, passionate and insatiable. If they had time, Ravus would take him to bed, would show him just how he truly feels, how much he needs him. But they haven’t gotten that time yet, and they likely won’t, not until the Empire is gone for good, or at least crippled enough that Lucis can strike back, and drive them off all the lands they’ve stolen. 

_ We’ll get them, Rav,  _ Noctis says.  _ I promise, we’ll nail them to the fucking wall so hard their great-grandkids will feel it.  _

Ravus believes it. Believes him. But for now, they can do nothing, and so he sits and strips his shirt off, lets Noctis see the inflamed area around his prosthetic where Loqi grabbed him sharp enough to hurt, let him apply a balm he carries around in his coat pocket when he himself doesn’t need it, ready to pass it off as makeshift lip balm if anyone ever finds it and asks. 

But nobody ever will, because nobody would ever think that the Prince of Lucis and the former Prince of Tenebrae are anything close to allies. And that is the way it must be.

For now.


End file.
